


Red Moon

by takenbynumbers



Series: Pretend The World Has Ended [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Freeform, M/M, Post-Dirge of Cerberus (Compilation of FFVII)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27919675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takenbynumbers/pseuds/takenbynumbers
Summary: No one is without sin.
Relationships: Vincent Valentine/Veld
Series: Pretend The World Has Ended [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198304
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Red Moon

**Author's Note:**

> this is a very short birthday drabble for nashi~

The jealousy he has is palpable, needling him, in conflict with his guilt. Reeve tells him it’s not his fault, but Veld sees the way Vincent looks at him. Crimson eyes flash, something dark. Hateful. It’s not only the gods who know his sins.  
  
  
He’s yet to be alone with Vincent, everyone seemingly going out of their way to keep them apart. It doesn’t change the glimpses he catches in passing – a swirl of red on black, a flash of gold, the scent of cigarettes and bergamot. He sees a coffee cup, crushed too eagerly, a long strand of black hair on his desk, and his heart _aches_.  
  
  
Veld sleeps fitfully. He can’t rely on his old self-destructive habits anymore, and each morning he wakes up with a new ache. Today, it’s the joint where his prosthetic meets his shoulder. He finds a long hair on the open windowsill and slams the window hard enough to shatter the glass.  
  
  
“Did that make you feel better?”  
  
  
He turns to see Vincent leaning against the doorframe languidly, arms crossed over his chest. The gleam of his gauntlet catches in the early morning light, and Veld looks away. “Fuck off.”  
  
  
“No. We should…”  
  
  
“We should _what_ , Valentine?”  
  
  
He’s met with silence. It’s frustrating beyond all belief.  
  
  
“All I see is the past when I look at you,” Veld says quietly, breaking the silence.

  
“Funny. I could say the same thing.”

  
“Maybe we both need to stop living in the past.”

  
Vincent stares at him, those eyes boring right into his damned (literally) _soul_. “I can’t let go of you.”

  
“Can’t or won’t?” Veld retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

  
“Both. I can’t watch you die. I already thought…”

  
He scoffs and turns, unable to look at Vincent. “Maybe I can’t watch you fuckin’ live when you should have been with _me_. Growin’ old together, like partners. Fuck, I’ve got _back_ issues. Do you know what that’s like?”

  
“No.”

  
Is it age? Or is it the fact that he sent Vincent off to those labs, unable to continue their tryst because he worried about their position in the company? Old fashioned ideals he quickly realised were no replacement for someone who genuinely enjoyed his company. Enjoyed the feel of his cock. Listened to him bitch about their subordinates.

  
“Sorry doesn’t cut it, does it?” Veld finally murmurs, looking at the broken glass on the floor. He needs to clean it. He needs to get dressed. Get to work, trying to make up for all he’d done.

  
“No. I’m not here for apologies.”

  
A hand – clawed and glinting in flashy recognition in the morning sun – rests gently on his shoulder. Veld leans back, allows Vincent to wrap his other arm around his chest, holding him against leather and cloth. Vincent still smells like cigarettes and bergamot, with a hint of earthy dampness. Like he’s been outside for too long. Veld sighs and closes his eyes.

  
“I’m Veld. It’s nice to meet you.”

  
Vincent laughs low, and Veld can feel it vibrate against his back. Another piece of a puzzle slots into place, and his heart feels lighter for the time being.


End file.
